Facing Death
by Redderhead
Summary: John is ill. He is beyond repair. Or so the Doctor's think. JOHNLOCK for old times sake. There is only fluffiness in here with a scoop of misery.
1. Chapter 1

_As usual, my lovelies, I own nothing and no one._

_Facing Death_

It has been three years.

1098 days to be precise.

John allowed a weak smile to cross his features as he thought Sherlock would have been proud of his word use in his thoughts.

The Doctor looked around his personal ward dully. Nothing was new.

The food tray was untouched when the usual nurse came in to fetch it.

"Doctor Watson, you _must_ eat." She implored as she lay a hand on John's arm.

"And delay the dying process?" John said brokenly as he looked up at her with sad eyes.

The nurse couldn't reply – John knew he was making other lives miserable, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Within the following hour, a duo of Doctors appeared at his bedside; taking his pulse and examining his eyes. They took his blood once more for testing before they disappeared almost wordlessly.

John resumed his stare at the magnolia coloured wall in front of him.

The ex-army Soldier had been admitted to hospital over 8 months ago because he had been labelled a burden on poor Mrs Hudson. The Hospital Doctor's still did not know what was causing John's illness; but the dullness of his eyes and skin, his posture and general weakness were all symptoms of something 'a bit not good'.

The days would pass by slowly, John tucked safely away in Sherlock's abandoned Mind Palace. This was where the Doctor spent most of his time – he figured he had inherited it seeing so Sherlock had no further use for it, being dead for over three years now.

John had built the Palace in his own imagination, building it brick by brick with the constant thought of Sherlock in mind.

The halls were grand, the wallpaper was inlayed with gold and the rooms were full.

John could spend endless hours lying in the hospital bed with his eyes closed, perusing material that he could only imagine Sherlock kept in there.

He had a room for evidence, a room for cases and a room for experiments…the bedroom – John had created himself. Once or twice, John had caught a glimpse of the Consulting Detective himself, either in the fictional library or the cerebrally created kitchen, eating toast.

John was ready for death. He had faced it before with fright; he now faced it with determination. Eager to see his best friend once more when it came.

In reality, Mrs Hudson, Harry and Mycroft would drop in very occasionally, they wouldn't receive much from their visits; just a view of the unresponsive dying man.

Once or twice Lestrade would visit, only for minutes at a time before he would awkwardly cough and turn heel to leave.

Only once, did Molly come to visit. She was in great distress but John couldn't will his mind to care or find out why.

John was transferred to a psychiatric ward within another two months. He spent his days sitting up in bed and staring out of the window over London town; his favourite location in the whole world.

One day, however, things changed.


	2. Chapter 2

John first was sprung back into consciousness when a cold hand made contact with his own. The Mind Palace faded from around him and the view of Sherlock Holmes eating biscuits and laughing merrily at the result of an experiment disappeared from view.

John opened his bloodshot eyes to be greeted with the usual view of the Thames outside his window. Feeling the cold digits of a foreign hand intertwine with his own, John rolled his head to the side to see who was responsible for this wandering hand.

John blinked, and blinked again.

The starved nerve endings in his brain were sparking furiously, but not reaching a sensible rationale for what he was seeing.

"John" Sherlock murmured quietly.

The Consulting Detective had been back precisely one day. He had been to the flat to see their landlady and reserve their rooms once more; he had popped in to Scotland Yard to enjoy the shocked faces of the Homicide team and then he had headed to John's ward; Lestrade had explained to the detective that he needed to be patient. Mrs Hudson had explained that Sherlock needed to be gentle and his brother had insisted that he be understanding when he did see John again.

Sherlock was unprepared for what met his eyes when he had been faced with his old friend again.

John had lost 23 lbs in weight; his eyes were sunken, bloodshot and dull. His fingernails and hair had slowed in growth speed considerably; Sherlock surmised from this that the man lying in front of him hadn't eaten a hearty meal in over a year.

Sherlock leaned forward and ran his free hand down the side of the Doctor's face.

He could see from the wideness of his dark eyes and the 'open and close' manoeuvre his jaw was currently performing repetitively; that John was not able to comprehend Sherlock's presence.

"John, I am here. I have been away for some time, and now I am back. How are you feeling?" Sherlock spoke quietly, calmly and reassuringly as he gazed into his old friends' eyes.

John was only able to nod, once, in reply.

"I am going to stay here with you, ok?" Sherlock said gently.

John nodded once more.

"And we are going to eat, ok?" Sherlock spoke firmly this time.

Without waiting for John's reaction to this statement, a nurse arrived with a tray. She placed a well prepared meal in front of John, pressed the button for the bed to manoeuvre the soldier into a sitting position and gave Sherlock the tray with another plate on top.

"Thanks" Sherlock murmured without taking his eyes from John.

Sherlock understood the disgust that John so evidentially felt towards the hot food, and placed his tray aside, he sat gingerly on the edge of the visitors chair and reached for John's plate.

Cutting the meal up into small pieces, Sherlock pierced a tiny bite of beef with the plastic fork and raised it toward John's mouth.

The Doctor looked at Sherlock with silent widened eyes once more, pleading for the man in front of him to remove the food.

Sherlock shook the fork encouragingly whilst squeezing John's other hand, reassuring the soldier of his presence.

John opened his mouth a little and Sherlock placed the beef inside, ensuring that John would actually chew before he removed the cutlery.

Slowly, they made their way through the meal, John improving by the second. However, not a word was spoken throughout the feeding process, only longing glances were exchanged between the two men until John had finished the entire meal.

"There, see, all gone" Sherlock said with a small smile as he placed the plate on the tray beside him. "Do you want more?" Sherlock asked, reaching for the other plate that remained full.

John still did not answer as he stared at the taller man in wonder, fear and surprise.

Sherlock proceeded to cut up the food on the other plate and carried on feeding his friend, ensuring that he fed himself a little of each item on the plate too.

"I think they have scones on the dessert menu today, would you like me to ask for some?" Sherlock asked kindly.

John's stomach answered for him as it gave an almighty growl. Sherlock stood swiftly and squeezed John's hand once more before preparing to leave the room in search of a nurse. He halted immediately at John's bone breaking grip on his hand.

"D-D-Don't-t…l-l-l-eave-e" John managed to say before panting slightly at the effort it had taken to talk.

"I'm not leaving, John, just getting a nurse" Sherlock said with a puzzled expression, for a moment, John saw the old Sherlock.

"B-b-button" John tried as he nudged his head in the direction of the call button.

Sherlock sat down once more and reached across the broken Doctor to push the button beside his hand.

John smiled faintly up at the Consulting Detective, not breaking his gaze as he blinked dumbly at him.

"Oh, John, why do things affect you so badly?" Sherlock sighed as though defeated.

John watched the interaction between the nurse and the detective and saw Sherlock accept the plate of scones, the recently consumed food had helped John's mind come to the conclusion that Sherlock was real. He was here and he was real.

Immediately, John started to feel much better, stronger even.

As Sherlock spread the strawberry jam rather excessively across the top of a scone half, he noticed John starting to move, his legs starting to twitch from inactivity and his arms becoming strong enough to assist him into sitting further upright.

The Detective smiled widely as he deduced the real source of John's 'mystery illness'.


	3. Chapter 3

John was eating by himself by evening. He had even talked with Sherlock. Explained the Palace as he saw it, thanked him for leaving it to him while he was away. Sherlock had been taken aback by this but gracefully thanked John for looking after it for him and suggested that they share the Palace. This earned a smile from the Doctor that sent happiness straight into the Sociopath's heart.

Mycroft had stopped by to see the miraculous recovery John had made in one single day, he shared a knowing smile with his younger brother before excusing himself to leave - troubling himself just enough to arrange with the head nurse that Sherlock stay the night.

By sundown the Doctors were called to see the phenomenon for themselves.

Sherlock remained in the room for the duration of their visit and rolled his eyes more than once.

Once the men had established that they knew nothing of what John's case was, Sherlock snapped into his usual demeanour; bustling through the wall of Doctor's. Sherlock turned to them.

"Really. Your brains are all so insignificantly small as to _not know_ what is wrong with this man? You take in a patient that has been depressed for many months. You then proceed to run tests on his blood, his weight, his lungs, his brain all coming to a pathetic nothing. Not only this, but you decide to re-test him…three, no, four times within each month?"

Sherlock turned to John and lay his hand across the soldier's own.

"I know exactly what was wrong with you, John" Sherlock said gently, silencing the murmuring Doctor's behind him.

John stared up into the shining light blue eyes above him that whispered sure adventure and excitement.

"You were suffering from a broken heart" Sherlock said, finding his own voice unsteady.

"Your brain had given up and was slowly shutting down your body. The mind is a very complex and powerful organ. Sheer thought alone can control whether you live or die." Sherlock finished with a raised eyebrow.

"And the reason, for this, was me" the taller man continued.

The Doctor's slowly filtered out of the room, most a little unsettled about what they had just heard.

"Sherlock" John whispered as he reached a hand up to the Consulting Detective, his fingers outstretched, seeking something to grab hold of.

The consulting detective lowered his head obediently and allowed John's hand to tangle in his dark curls.

"I will be no good for you, John" Sherlock murmured as he examined the way John's breathing had hitched.

"Don't care" John muttered, bringing Sherlock closer with his hold upon his hair.

"I will hurt you without knowing it" Sherlock continued.

"Don't care" John repeated, a smile crossing his cracked lips.

"I will _always _forget the milk" Sherlock breathed gently.

"I take my coffee black now…with two sugars" John whispered as he pulled Sherlock the last inch towards him.

Their lips joined together.

Sherlock was surprised, but didn't find the attentions unwelcome as he lifted his own hand to John's cheek, cupping it gently, kissing the Doctor back.

"I know, you don't sleep, Sherlock, but…" John asked in a tiny whisper, indicating the space beside him on the bed once they had broken apart.

Sherlock smiled weakly before pushing himself onto the wards' bed beside his friend. Once the pair were comfortable enough in the small space, Sherlock reached around for the bed positioning remote and chuckled slightly as the bed moved of its own accord.

John watched his best friend laugh in awe before a terrible thought came into the forefront of his mind.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" John asked trying in vain to hide his horror.

"Of course, John" Sherlock murmured as he wrapped an arm around the shorter man. "Tomorrow we have to bring ourselves back to life…that's a lot of paperwork I assure you" Sherlock said.

John smiled and moved as close to the Consulting Detective as possible to hide his face in the younger mans' neck, happy in the knowledge that he would wake up if Sherlock moved, he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Late next morning found Sherlock walking John from his ward room and down the corridor.

John's face now had colour to it and he felt stronger, but the fact remained that his limbs were weak.

"It'll be a while before you can run, John" Sherlock said, tightening his grip around John as the shorter man stumbled a little.

"Yeah" John said sadly as he rested back a little against Sherlock's chest. "That's what I get for not moving for 13 months I suppose" John said with a sigh.

"You're the Doctor, you should have known better" Sherlock said with a smirk.

John rested back fully now, looking up at Sherlock with his head tilted back at an impossible angle.

"I've made a pretty remarkable recovery considering this time yesterday I was ready to face death" He said with a little echo of his usual rage.

Sherlock's smile grew. "Impeccable" He said, placing a delicate kiss to the shorter man's forehead. "Now, come on, think you can make it to the vending machine at the end of this corridor?" He asked.

"Easy" John said with a smile.

Sherlock tilted him back to his feet and hovered behind the soldier as he shakily shuffled across the shiny floor.

Once he had touched the vending machine, Sherlock grabbed him just in time to hear claps and woops from behind them.

Several of the nurses had congregated at the doorway to John's ward and were watching the patients' progress with excited giggles and teary smiles.

John smiled back to them as he rested again on Sherlock's chest.

Much to the nurses' delight and John's surprise, Sherlock bent down and hooked an arm around John's knees, hoisting him up easily in his arms.

John smiled widely as Sherlock carried him back to his room to help him wash and dress.

After several hours, Sherlock wheeled John into the entrance of Scotland Yard.

"John! Good to see you, mate" Lestrade said with a wide teeth bearing smile as he swooped forward to shake his hand with both of his own.

"Shouldn't you be saying that to him?" John said with a light laugh as he pointed his thumb to the man that stood behind him.

"We've seen enough of freak already" Donavon said as she passed the office nonchalantly.

"As indelicately as she phrased that" Lestrade said apologetically. "We have already seen him" he said with a smile toward the taller man.

After much paperwork and a cup of tea, Sherlock gave John an envelope containing Greg's latest case notes before pushing the borrowed wheelchair back out onto the street below. The sunshine was very welcome as John enjoyed the sights and sounds of being in public once more. Sherlock seemed to sense this as he avoided taxi's and opted for pushing John toward Bartholomew's Hospital. John looked up at Sherlock as they neared their destination, as though making sure he wasn't going to find him bloodied and broken on the pavement still.

"Relax, John, we are going to see Molly. No jumping today" Sherlock said abruptly before turning his back to the door and pushing it open in order to wheel John through.

"Ah, Molly" Sherlock said warmly. "Might we have a cup of tea?" he asked with expectantly raised eyebrows.

John smiled as Sherlock sat down beside him on a plastic lab chair.

"Have you….explained everything, then?" Molly asked nervously as she nodded towards Sherlock.

"No" Sherlock said shortly, taking the tea cup that was offered to him.

"'Explained everything?'" John asked Molly tentatively with a smile.

"Sherlock" Molly said warningly.

Sherlock sighed heavily and turned toward the Doctor.

"It was just a magic trick, John. Me, jumping. Molly here dressed a John Doe in my clothes, placed the coloured contact lenses and blood to make it look like me. I jumped but landed in the waste skip that was parked on the pavement. A member of my homeless network knocked you over on his bicycle. This activated the H.O.U.N.D. chemical that was already in your body, you saw what was your worst fear; my death" Sherlock finished.

Molly looked down at her own teacup from where she stood behind the Petri dish counter. "I kept an eye on you, John. But…you…you were failing fast…"

John looked between the two in shock, clutching his own teacup until his knuckles were white.

"When was the chemical put in my system?" John asked, controlling his anger well.

"When you were sleeping on that counter over there; I ensured you breathed it in" Sherlock said apologetically.

"Why?" John asked, his voice shaking, he settled for a sad look toward his flat mate.

"Moriarty offered me a way out by saying I could call off the snipers, and then he shot himself…I had to do it, John…" Here Sherlock sighed heavily and looked up to John's dark eyes "…in order to save your life".

John looked down guiltily.

"It is true John. Sherlock has been almost all around the World tracking down every member of Moriarty's gang" Molly burst.

"Web" Sherlock corrected. "Molly called me many times during my time away. I realised about a month ago that I had to come home whether I had finished or not." The taller man explained expressionlessly.

"Did you?" John asked meekly as he rubbed a thumb across the rim of his cup.

"No. There is one member still to track down" Sherlock replied dully as he placed his cup back onto the bench. "Which reminds me, we need to go to Baker Street, John" he said standing up to fetch his coat and scarf.

Molly nodded and headed out of the room once she had gathered the three empty cups together. Just before she opened the door, John shouted out;

"Thank you, Molly, for everything".

The young female turned shyly and nodded again.

"No problem" she replied.

Sherlock swept toward her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you, Molly Hooper" he said gently before placing a gentle kiss to her cheek. Molly smiled widely and a blush covered her entire face as she left the room.

When Sherlock turned round he found John pouting at him from his wheelchair, he started to laugh.

"So I am forgiven then?" The self proclaimed Sociopath asked, walking slowly back to John.

"Depends" John replied as he looked up at Sherlock.

"On what may I ask?" The brunette asked as he stopped in front of the Doctor.

"Did you miss me?" John asked, straight faced as he looked toward the floor.

Sherlock lowered to a knee and raised John's chin toward him.

"Everyday" He answered simply before they shared a sweet kiss.

Through the lab door window, Molly smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock took them a rather…scenic way back to Baker Street, but John enjoyed the air regardless.

Once they had entered a back door to a house that was most definitely _not_ 221B, Sherlock pulled John up the stairs and into an alcove in the desolate bedroom.

"John, I need you to stay here. That house across the street is 221B. I will run across and fetch your gun. It will not be long until it gets dark, my estimate would be within the next half hour." Sherlock said quietly as he opened the window toward the street a fraction.

"Sherlock, what are you on about?" John asked in mild amusement.

"I was spotted, John. Sebastian Moran is the last of Moriarty's henchmen. I saw him on the street today beside Bart's. He knows I would be coming back to Baker Street. I've text Lestrade already" Sherlock said as he surveyed the street closely.

"Well don't go out there, stay here Sherlock. We'll wait for him together" John said gently.

"No, John, I need your gun, now, stay here" Sherlock said as he pressed a reassuring kiss to John's head of short grey hair.

Sherlock had not been gone more than ten minutes before John heard the door at the back of the house close stealthily. He tensed as he heard a step on the stair that certainly was not Sherlock's.

A man dressed in black entered the room, not seeing the weak man in the corner by the door; the man only had eyes for the buildings across the street.

The stranger knelt down and started to piece together a sniper rifle.

John waited with bated breath to hear if Sherlock was going to return, he breathed fiercely as he realised he was alone without means of contacting anyone. The only one that could save Sherlock now, was him; the broken ex-Military Doctor.

John saw the small red dot travel up to the living room windows and heard the man mutter;

'Ah ha, Mr Sherlock Holmes, we meet at last".

Before he knew it, John had raised himself from the wheelchair shakily and launched himself at the taller man, knocking the gun out of his grasp; John wrestled the strong man as best he could.

Unsurprisingly, the weak Doctor found himself pinned to the floor as Mr Moran reached his for gun and pointed it at John's heaving chest as he stood up.

John squeezed his eyes tightly shut and expected the bullet that was sure to kill him.

There was a sudden rumble of noise; tyres screeching, shouting, dogs barking and a gunshot.

It took John a while to coax open his eyes, expecting the worst. However, his eyes snapped open as a body landed heftily on his legs.

The first thing John saw was an immobile Moran lying across his lower half, the sniper rifle was beside him, unused. The next thing John became aware of was Sherlock standing a little less than four feet away, his right arm upheld as his hand firmly gripped a familiar looking hand gun, the end smoked slightly from being freshly fired.

More frightening perhaps was the look on the Consulting Detective's face. John had never seen a look that could portray so much hatred as the one he currently viewed on his flat mates' face, it gave him cold shivers.

"Sherlock" John whimpered as he remained frozen on the floor. Sherlock instantly softened as he threw the gun onto the floorboards and ran toward his Doctor; scooping him up from the floor in one movement and walking him to his wheel chair.

The room was full of police officers and dog handlers now, but all John could see was Sherlock, and the tears that currently wondered down his angular face.

As Sherlock placed the blanket across John's legs and tucked each end in unnecessarily, John was reminded of the night when Sherlock had ripped the explosive vest from him many years ago.

"Sherlock, it's ok, I'm ok" John said reassuringly as he placed a calming hand on Sherlock's arm.

Sherlock stopped moving, looking into John's kind and gentle eyes.

Their gaze was broken by Lestrade.

"What happened? Sherlock! I thought you wanted him in custody?" Greg said incredulously as he looked toward the body of Moran.

Sherlock wiped surreptitiously at his face before turning to the DI.

"He is not dead" he said distastefully. "I shot him in the lower back. He is paralysed for certain, but not dead. I still need to clear my name after all. Then, I will kill him." Sherlock said harshly as his dangerous eyes flashed towards the immobile Moran.

Lestrade looked Sherlock up and down before turning to John.

"You ok, John?" Greg asked.

John nodded an affirmative before tugging Sherlock's coat sleeve. "Let's go home, Sherlock" John said weakly.

Sherlock nodded "Once _he_ has been escorted away, John, then we will go" he said fiercely.

"Right lads, pick him up. Read him his rights" Greg shouted as he turned toward Sherlock "And we'll call you two in tomorrow" he added in an undertone, still dubious of Sherlock's cold stare.

John reached for Sherlock's hand as the criminal was hoisted onto a stretcher and taken down the stairs.

Seemingly satisfied; Sherlock carefully lowered the wheel chair down each step with a helping constable at the other side before pushing John across the street. The bulky wheel chair was left in the foyer as Sherlock carried John up the stairs to their old living room with a fussing Mrs Hudson in tow.


	6. Chapter 6

"Can I make you boys some soup?" She asked in hurried worry.

"Soup would do lovely, thank you Mrs Hudson" Sherlock said kindly before lowering John onto the couch and sitting beside him.

"Thank you Sherlock. You saved my life…again" John said with a light laugh.

"We are square then, to date" Sherlock said as he looked toward the fireplace.

"Square?" John asked curiously.

"Yes, you saved my life during the pink lady case. Then you saved my life tonight. I make it 2:2." Sherlock said, raising his eyebrows.

"3:3" John said with a smile. "When we first met" John continued when he saw Sherlock's questioning glance.

"4:3 in that case" Sherlock suggested; "I could've choked on my own vomit"

John laughed loudly.

"4:4" John countered, "You rescued me from the Hound" he continued with a smile.

"That was not a real Hound, John" Sherlock said with a scoff.

"Still counts" John muttered, reaching for the TV remote.

Just as Sherlock lowered himself to the floor to build up the living room fire, Mrs Hudson entered the room laden down with a tray of food. Their landlady looked like she had filled the tray with her entire pantry as she placed it down on the desks by the window.

The woman smiled as she watched her two boys eat and laugh with each other. She couldn't help the happy tears that escaped her eyes. Mycroft had paid her enough rent for the previous three years and the next year, so she had kept the place empty and tidy, never dreaming that this would be the outcome.

But here they were. Holding hands and smiling at one another as if nothing had happened…wait, holding hands?

"Boys, are we…do you two…?" Mrs Hudson stuttered as she looked at their clasped hands.

"No, Mrs Hudson, we will not be needing the other bedroom" John supplied with yet another light laugh.

Sherlock coughed a little as his soup threatened to trickle down the wrong pipe.

Mrs Hudson smiled once more and collected up the empty plates with a laugh.

Over the following month, Sherlock helped John to regain full use of his limbs and replace that missing weight. In turn, John helped Sherlock to settle into a domestic life, eating regularly and sleeping often.

The court case – in which Moran showed up in a wheel chair to – proved Sherlock Holmes' innocence for all to see. The following Newspapers were to spread the news widely, not only the news that Sherlock and John were innocent of all atrocities, but that they were engaged to be married in the announcements section.

The End


End file.
